Aboard the Ship of Terror
by FlameCatcher
Summary: The trip to Skyrim wasn't as uneventful as Cicero's journal might let on. *Casual mentions of people dying* *Title changed*


Cicero has heard many good tales of the Sea of Ghost. The fat Bosmer told him so. The fat Bosmer did not mention to poor Cicero how awful sailling the legendary sea would be.

And it is. Cicero grows tired of the rolling, the thrashing, the tossing and the rocking. But more than that, he hates the gray, gray waves that cause it. But! Cicero must absolutely get to Dawnstar! Get to his new Sanctuary where, surely enough, the sweet Night Mother will bless him with her wonderfull voice! Oh, Cicero will endure anything to get to his sanctuary, his promised land.

It does not take long for Cicero to figure when visiting his Mother below the deck is best. Surely, he had foolishly thought, nighttime would be best. Alas, he realized that many of the sailors sleep and frollick there. No, the best time is in broad daylight, when the rugged men are above deck, tending to the ship's sails.

Ah, but Cicero bores of the travel. His trusty dagger gathers dust in his cabin, along with his linens- Cicero dares not sleep during the ship's thrashing. He likes to creep along the deck, shrouded by the shadows the moons cast. His old habits tear at him; so many exposed necks to slice and dice and sacrifice! Oh, but Cicero is forbidden to do so. After all, who wouldn't suspect him! Him, out of the two passengers on the ship!

The other one is a beautiful, tall lady. Cicero always finds her, night after night, standing at the ship's rear, gazing at the moons. There is something very royal about her; her hair is long, black and gleaming in the pure, white light. Her robes are finely tailored, the colors deep and rich.

He takes special interest in watching her from the shadows. Her death- like stillness piques him curiousity more than the sailors' nightly chores. Sometimes, Cicero notices, she is accompanied by a young, green sailor. He talks to her excitedly, standing at a fair distance from her. His interest is evident though, from the way his voice deepens and the way his hands move when he speaks. She never does, though. She does not so much as glance at him; her only interest remains in the moons, rising and falling.

Cicero almost feels bad for the boy.

* * *

One night, when the sea is at it's calmest and the moons at their peak, Cicero dares to leave the comfort of the shadows and approach the Moon Lady. He intends to speak to her, as staring at the Jolly Sailor's attempts to woo her keep on failing. Said Jolly Sailor is nowhere to be found on the deck tonight, Cicero notices with his keen eyes.

He stands closer to her than her jolly sailor dares to, and that draws her attention. He has not formed the words yet when she cuts them short. She holds his gaze, her eyes are surprising light in color. It seems that the Moon Lady is familiar with the phrase 'the eyes are windows to the soul'. Behind the silvery irises, Cicero sees suffering, pain, misery and the calm of someone who has resigned to their fate. Sweet Cicero wonders what she sees when she looks into his own soul. Does she see a mere fool? Does she see a murder? Or perhaps a dark child, devoted to his Mother?

Cicero never asks, and she never answers.

It is yet another night of hunting non-existent prey that Cicero sees the Moon Lady finally yield to the Jolly Sailor. He is standing right next to her now, but he is not speaking. She has finally turned her head to him and way from her moons. She is _looking_ at him. She is _smilling_ at him. Her lips part and her small, pale hand extends to him. He takes it eagerly.

Cicero is not interested in seeing them disappear below deck. He looks away, and searches for someone else to stalk.

"Look! They jumped in!"

Cicero looks at the source of the voice, a young sailor who has dropped him mop to the floor and is pointing at the bow of the ship, where the couple is. Or was, Cicero should say. In the light of the moons, he makes out the Jolly Sailor's white tunic and the Moon Lady's pale face glinting just under the surface of the cold, calm waters. He can _feel_ their souls departing Nirn, and the Void has gained two new dead.

* * *

Bear sits at the bow, carving a piece of wood.

The Jolly Sailor's brother, he learns from the chatty captain. Each little sculpture is thrown in the sea when Bear is finished. Cicero suspects that this is the larger man's way of mourning his little brother. Sweet Cicero can't help but feel he is leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for the ghosts.

A shaggy mutt lies by Bear's feet, sleeping soundly. It seems that a veil of dread has come over the crew after the lovers' suicide. Cicero, however, revels in that veil. Mother, despite her rotten lips and her stubborn silence, is happy.

As usual, Cicero keeps close to the shadows, this time observing Bear and his dog. Perhaps when Bear's wound scab, he will visit him also. The dog at his feet is awake this time, laying on his back. His master, Bear, is brushing his bare foot against his furry belly while carving.

It isn't until daytime, when Cicero visits Mother, that he realizes Bear's inevitable fate. Cicero thinks the bow of the ship is cursed, but perhaps this is Mother's way of keeping her sweet jester happy on this miserable trip.

Two nights later, Cicero's thoughts are confirmed. Bear throws in the last statuette and jumps off the wooden railing. He bends down to his dog and embraces it, like one would their best friend. Cicero watches intently, not missing the thrust of Bear's arm. It is a motion that Cicero knows well; he has done it himself once, when he was tasked with ending a rich merchant's cheating wife.

The dog cries out in agony and in his last moments, bites deeply into Bear's bare neck. Cicero leaves them be. Someone will find in the morning. It will make the wait worth it, when he sees the shocked expressions on the sailors' faces.

Sure enough, they are found early in the morning. Cicero is there to see them place the dog's corpse over Bear's chest. There are tied together in white cloth and metal, and thrown into the sea.

Cicero realizes that the carvings, breadcrumb trail that they were, were leading the Jolly Sailor and the Moonlady to Bear and Dog. They are united again in the Void, serving Father.

The spontaneous suicides continue, until all that is left of the crew is the Captain, his first mate (though Cicero suspects that he is literally the captain's mate) and a handful of miserable sailors. They arrive in Dawnstar early in the morning.

The captain has to pay the nearby miners to help carry out the cargo. Fortunately, the Moon Lady had paid handsomely for her trip, and the captain no longer has to pay the Jolly Sailor, Bear or any of the others that died.

Poor Cicero has to seek extra help to carry the Night Mother's coffin to the abandoned Sanctuary. Everyone in the sad little town thinks Cicero's new home is haunted. The two big, burly Nords will soon find out just how _haunted_ it truly is...

* * *

 **Soooooo... I don't know, I came up with this when I was returning home one night. Because what do normal people do when they walk in complete darkness and are freezing their butts off? Come up with a fic about Cicero's love for ships so miserable, people fall in the water. Yeah.**


End file.
